Peon
by Zoop
Summary: A tale for the holidays. They're the least recognized, often ignored cogs in the Horde machine. When things need to be built, hauled, or gathered, the peons get the job. Nobody really notices them, unless they miss their quota. But in spite of not being the brightest or the best, regardless that they're weak of mind and body, they're still Orcs, and Orcs have certain... instincts.


"Get back to work!"

Runx started from his nap in the usual way: a rough shout, and a blow from a cudgel. "What?" he grumbled, annoyed. Yet he rose and shook the dust from his shirt, and brushed more off his pants. He would've dropped and shaken it out of his boots if a second strike wasn't likely. Hefting his axe, he once more turned toward the giant tree he'd been laboring over for hours. The foreman snarled at him, then went on his way to the next hapless peon resting in the shade of a tree.

The blazing sun of Durotar baked the back of Runx's green neck. Sweat dripped into his small eyes. He'd managed, over the course of the day, to carve out a hollow in the trunk of this tree. The wood was probably for fires. Or maybe for building. Possibly weapons. Runx had no idea. The foreman only told him to chop wood. So Runx chopped wood.

Every now and then, a young Orc fresh from their _om'riggor_ trotted past, breath huffing as they sought to complete their task in a timely manner. Runx didn't have an _om'riggor_ when he came of age. Usually, only those who showed some promise as a future conscript of the Horde were sponsored. Underdeveloped, awkward, and submissive Orcs weren't. Runx was one of the latter.

The steady clanging of a bell carried in the dry air to Runx's ears, and he halted. He'd made a decent pile, no more or less than he had the day before. The hollow was a foot deeper than yesterday. Shouldering his axe, he headed back to the Den for dinner and sleep.

As usual, the chow line was long, and Runx was late. Even if he'd been early, he would've had to wait until the recruits were fed before getting his share. Taking his place at the end of the line, he shuffled slowly along until it was his turn for a haunch of cold meat and a mug of warm ale.

"How much you chop?" Fark asked after swallowing a grisly mouthful.

Runx shrugged. "The usual."

Fark nodded. "Same."

"One of you lot isn't doing his job," the foreman suddenly roared. He was brandishing a tally sheet in his hand. His expression was thunderous. "We're a load shy of quota. I better not see any of you napping on the job tomorrow, or there'll be hell to pay." Fixing his beady eye on each peon in turn, he finally snorted and stomped out of the den. Runx released the tension in his shoulders and slumped where he sat.

Fark nudged him. "Who you think it were, eh?"

"Dunno. Chopped what I always chop. Not my business, is it?"

Brow furrowing, Fark appeared to be thinking hard. "Ain't sure if I... How can yuh tell?"

"Stack'em the same way," Runx explained. "That way, you always know how much. Whatta you do?"

"Just toss'em in a pile," Fark replied worriedly. "Don't really pay attention. So... could be me, eh?"

"Make sure it ain't you tomorrow, then."

Fark nodded, but he still looked worried.

"Don't think on it now," Runx shrugged. "Can't do nothin' about it anyway."

"Yeah."

After dinner, the two Orcs joined their fellow peons at the back of the twisting tunnel of the Den. The front area was for the recruits and trainers; the back, where little air flowed, was for the peons. Runx was late once more, and had to make do with a pallet on the dirty floor. Fark didn't fare any better, and spread his own bedding nearby. Yet as Runx stretched out on the hard ground, and got past the groaning and crackling of his bones, he acknowledged that it had been a decent one, as days go. He didn't make the foreman mad at him, he'd chopped his quota, and he'd made it all the way to supper without getting in any kind of trouble. It was a day like any other day, which suited Runx fine.

* * *

Not long after sun up, the peons were herded out of the Den, still licking breakfast's grease off their fingers, and sent out to work. Runx reported to his usual tree. The wood he'd chopped the day before was spirited away during dinner the night before, likely by another crew of peons, leaving his stacking spot fresh and empty. Nodding with satisfaction, he got to work.

His stack was barely a foot high when he heard a cry. Startled, Runx halted his axe in mid-swing and turned. He shaded his eyes with a thick hand. Through the heat haze, he saw a blurry figure running, and something dark chasing after it. The something stopped, then a bright ball of fire shot from the something toward the figure. As the figure neared, it coalesced into one of the recruits wearing a light-colored robe. Runx was frozen where he stood, barely comprehending that the Orc was heading right for him, and an imp from the cave over yonder was hot on her heels. Another ball of fire launched from the imp, striking the recruit square in the back. She toppled over with a groan. Then the imp took aim at Runx.

There was no one else around, not even the foreman. Terrified, Runx dove aside, barely dodging the fireball in time. He scrambled on all fours to hide behind the meager stack of wood. Peering over the stack, he saw the recruit struggling to rise. Her movement attracted the imp's attention, and it let fly another fireball at her. Runx ducked down again. He counted to five – that was as high as he could manage. Gut flipping and teeth clenched, he rose to his knees and lobbed a length of splintered wood at the imp.

The improvised weapon didn't make it nearly as far as where the demon was standing, but it got its attention. Cackling with glee, the imp sent a fireball hurtling at Runx's hiding place. The stack of wood erupted in flames, forcing the peon to scamper away. Then the imp skipped eagerly toward Runx, the recruit forgotten.

Runx had never been in a situation like this before. He'd seen how warriors squared off against an opponent, but couldn't remember anything about it now. He backpedaled swiftly, and was brought up short by the tree trunk. Pressing his body into the wood, he squeezed his eyes shut and trembled all over. His heart hammered in his chest.

"Nn-_gah_!" the recruit roared. Runx opened his eyes. The recruit had regained her feet, and from her hands a sparking sphere of lightning hurtled, striking the imp. When the imp whirled around toward the renewed threat, Runx suddenly unfroze. He felt himself lift his chopping axe over his head and bring it down hard on the imp's shoulder. Though inexperience resulted in a glancing blow, the imp was confused enough by the need to choose between two enemies that it failed to dodge the recruit's second attack. A green, cloudy glow suddenly surrounded the imp. The ground at its feet buckled, sending up a plume of dust. The demon's knees nearly gave way, and it staggered. The recruit ran up to the rattled imp and caved in its skull with her mace.

Breathing heavily, the shaman recruit turned to Runx and regarded him incredulously. "You... you saved my life." Runx blinked with surprise, hand on his heart to steady its rapid beating.

"Did I?"

She nodded. "You did. I needed a moment, and you gained it for me." She looked like she had never seen anything quite like Runx. Straightening solemnly, she pressed her fist to her heart. "Go with honor." Then she turned and headed back to the Den.

Runx's heart slowed to its normal pace. He lurched away from the reassuringly solid tree. In a fog, he noted that his stack of wood was almost burned away. He frowned, imagining what the foreman would have to say about that. Suddenly worried, he fell to chopping at the hollow with renewed vigor.

The sun had nearly disappeared behind the mountains encircling the Valley of Trials when Runx finally trudged into the Den. He was more weary than he'd ever been, but at least his stack was no smaller than yesterday's. The foreman wouldn't have anything to say to him.

"Where were you?" Fark asked as Runx unrolled his pallet nearby. "Thought you might be dead or somethin'. Heard a bit about some of them imps gettin' outta hand. Foreman said one of us saved a recruit today." He chuckled at the absurdity of such of a thing. "Imagine that, eh? One of us doin' that."

"Yeah," Runx said awkwardly. "One of us."


End file.
